


Black Ink

by orphan_account



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Community: fluff_friday, Fluff, M/M, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 10:34:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill wants a new tattoo and Tom in a fit of insecurity proclaims that they'll get matching ones. Can he handle what Bill has in mind for him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Ink

**Author's Note:**

> This was written a good few years ago for Fluff Friday over on LJ. From a prompt by strssna, drawing on backs.
> 
> Also if you like this a friend of mine did a spectacular reading of it for the thfics_on_tape com, of which I am a reasonably active member.
> 
> http://thfics-on-tape.livejournal.com/9958.html

Bill loved body art. It obviously wasn’t a well kept secret what with his two piercings and four tattoos, but it was something he found intriguing.

Tom however sincerely hoped that Bill didn’t want to have too many tattoos, for no matter how much he knew Bill loved them, Tom loved Bill’s skin as it was; pure and clean (although he could admit to himself that he had developed a little fetish about the stars). The more skin of Bill’s that got covered the less Tom felt that Bill was his twin. His lover; of course, his soul mate; for eternity, but he couldn’t help but be concerned that the essential twin-ness had gone in part, had evaporated into thin air never to be reclaimed.

Tom didn’t mind so much when they had first decided to be different; when it was just the difference in styles Tom knew that if they took out their piercings, tied their hair back and removed any make up they still looked identical. Something that Tom didn’t realise was so important to him until he felt it slipping away. The more ink Bill had permanently ingrained under his skin the more obvious it was that they were no longer the same person. It was a times like this that it hit Tom hard that they hadn’t been that way for a long time.

“I think I want another tattoo done,” said Bill casually looking up from his latest fashion magazine to look at Tom for a moment.

Tom felt his heart shatter. Another one? Another tattoo meant another thing to make them distinguishable, another thing to separate them. He almost broke the string he was tuning.

“If you want another one then I want one too. I want whatever you’re getting.” Tom blurted out before he registered what he just said. His brain finally caught up with his mouth and he faltered; fucking hell that was a stupid idea. 

Bill always wanted tattoos that were elaborate and intricate, monstrosities that took hours and hours of being repeatedly stabbed by needles. And now he was insisting that he go through the same treatment just because he was having a mental breakdown over not being as identical as they once were?

Bill’s eyes were wide. “Really?” he asked incredulously. “But you always hated my tattoos you said that you’d never get one done; that you’d never want to mark your body like that.”

“Yeah well that’s before you became obsessive about getting them every five minutes. I don’t want us to keep being different from each other. Wasn’t that what your last tattoo was about? Going back to our roots, being the same again, you even got dread locks. I dyed my hair black! I think getting the same tattoo if you really want one is a reasonable request.”

Tom didn’t know why he didn’t back out just then but his mouth wasn’t letting him. He hoped that Bill understood that Tom really, _really_ did not want a tattoo and he would instead paint his nails or something before getting his skin re-engraved.

Bill’s eyes started tearing up in the corners he dropped his magazine and walked quickly out of the room.

Fuck. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Maybe he had really upset Bill by saying that. He knew that Bill really thrived off his individuality maybe he felt that if Tom got a tattoo as well he wasn’t one of a kind anymore, but a carbon copy clone of his brother. Tom hadn’t even tried thinking about why Bill got all these tattoos done, he knew that they all meant something but he never bothered to look deeper. He was going to have to do some grovelling now. He’d let Bill wait it out a little though, if he went now he’d be likely to find his head through a table.

* * *

Tom woke on the sofa about an hour later to the sound of the Gibson hitting the floor. He glanced around the room looking to see if anyone had been watching so he could pull the appropriate “I mean for that to happen” face, but Bill was still no-where in site. It was probably time he went and sought him out to apologise for suggesting it.

Tom found Bill in their room rummaging through a box on the floor, best to bite the bullet and just say sorry.

“Look Bill, I’m really sorry, about the tattoo thing I know that they means a lot to you and I don’t want to-”

“Got it!” Bill pulled a small drawstring back out of the box with a flourish.

“Got what?” Tom was confused, but also a little excited. That bag looked awfully like the ones that Bill kept some of his more interesting toys in. If he was in the mood to play then maybe Tom was forgiven, or maybe Bill wasn’t upset in the first place.

However Tom was disappointed when Bill opened the bag to reveal a collection of permanent markers. “I was a little upset at first because I thought you didn’t want me to get another one. But I think it’s a brilliant idea for us to get one together. These pens are good for just doodling ideas. I thought I’d make sure that whatever I want suits you too so I thought we could just spend the evening drawing on each other.”

Well that was that then. Say goodbye to your skin Kaulitz. Was it still too late to back out? Where Bill’s stubbornness was concerned it almost certainly was.

“Can you take your shirt of and lie on the bed on your front for me Tomi?”

Tom complied with Bill’s wishes feeling a little sad. He loved the skin on Bill’s back it was so perfect and smooth. It was the same skin Tom kissed to wake Bill up in the morning, the same skin Tom felt under his hands when they were making love, the same skin that Tom had worshiped for many a year, and now it was going to be gone.

“What I’m going to do is I’m going to try some different designs out in a few different colours and anything I want to have in the final picture I’ll draw back over in black then it’ll be easier to see. Okay?”

Tom nodded an affirmation of understanding into the pillow. To be honest Tom didn’t care that much; a tattoo was a tattoo. He was only getting one for Bill, so whatever design made Bill happy he’d get.

The pen started on Tom’s left shoulder and worked its way over to the right followings swirls and stars and lines and lettering it moved down to cover the whole expanse of Tom’s back.

This was huge; it was going to take hours and hours to complete it. He should have started getting tattoos at the same time as Bill rather than starting with such a mammoth design. Grin and bear it Kaulitz, if it was for Bill he’d do whatever he asked.

With the soft bed underneath him and the warm weight of Bill straddling his upper thighs it wasn’t long before the gentle movement of the pen sent Tom into a quiet sleep.

* * *

When he woke up again it was almost dark. He glanced at the clock, half eight? Bill had been drawing on him for almost 40 minutes. Bill kissed the side of Tom’s face and smiled at his sleepy brother.

“Come on Tom, I’m finished now. You check it out in the mirror and tell me what you think. I’m just going to wash all this pen off me.” Bill held up his hands to reveal them covered in ink, mostly black. If it was black ink it was in the final design, Bill must have planned something big.

As soon as Bill left the room Tom scrambled towards the nearest mirror. With a compact in hand he was able to see pretty much all of his back. It was completely covered, it was a huge design of a bird in a fire with stars and clouds and a moon carefully detailed in varying shades of reds and blues and all sorts of bright colours, but he couldn’t see a speck of black. Maybe Bill had given up on the tracing it in black thing and had just gone straight for the design. Until something caught his eye in the very top left corner of picture there was some small black writing. It was so small he almost missed it at first, but he could see it now. In clear and un-stylised writing were four little words that he would be happy to wear on him for the rest of his life.

_I love you, Bill._


End file.
